Say Something
by emma.mg.9
Summary: "I have challenged you oh great Apollo. I am the foolish Marsyas and I have lost. Flay me Apollo, flay me and take my heart. Take my heart Apollo, it was always yours anyway." These were almost the last words Grantaire ever said to his Apollo. Rated T for death and darker themes
1. Downward Spiral

**Hello Lovelies! Here I am with another two-shot! It's the story of Grantaire's darkest days that I've always alluded to in Amber (you can read this alone though). ((This also alludes to a big barricade scene, that's another two/three shot in the works)) ENJOY!**

**Don't forget to leave a review! Tell me what you think! **

**Warning: Mentions of death, suicide, and suicide attempts... **

**Disclaimer: Alas, no...**

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_Chapter 1: Downward Spiral _

He was always good at holding everything inside. He was the jolly drunk, the jovial trickster, the bane of his Apollo's existence. If asked (which he never actually was, those who knew him just knew it about him.), he drank to drown all the bad out of his life. The rich ambers and reds that stained and hydrated his pallet brought him to a high that life never could, one that erased the disappointed faces of all those who were meant to be there for support, for love.

He was always good at holding everything inside, until he hit rock bottom. Until the blows came too fast and too hard to recover and the gods' nectar wasn't going to be enough to recover. Frankly if it weren't for the angel that was watching him somewhere, giving him the group (and the love) that finally re-defined family for him, he probably wouldn't be around to tell his story to anyone. (He might also owe some of it to the love masters of Fey and Han for knocking some sense into the resident marble block.)

It started four days after his own long distance call to his Father. Shitty timing on part of that bastard, but that's another story. He was never like Éponine or Enjolras with the major Daddy issues. He loved his father. Hell, the man was all he had left after his mother died when he was eight. But this, the reason for the call, was something he'd bottle'd up for a long time. (Deep down he knew his Dad knew, but he'd never actually come out and said it.) This little secret, knowing his family of conservatives and religious nuts would never accept him, was one of the reasons he drank so much. Drank away the looks of disgust from those aunts who scoffed at Luc Tate, a local boy who'd come out. Drank away the damnations his great uncle, the Reverend, gave in his countless sermons he was dragged too. But something inside Grantaire told him his father would be different. That's how he felt when he hit father's contact that Thursday night, sitting in his, Bahorel and Bousset's flat (though he didn't understand why Bousset still chipped in rent when he had technically moved in with Joly when Musichetta moved in.), a couple hours before a meeting down at the _Musain_.

It rang for a bit, but after the third monotone note, someone picked up.

"_Nicky?_"

"Hi Dad."

_"Nicky, I should be scolding you! What's it been three, four months since you last called? How is everything?"_

His father's voice was just the same; caramel that wasn't heated entirely, chunky caramel, yeah, that's how he thought of his Dad's voice. It was a perfect topper to the ice cream sundae that was his Dad. Just hearing it caused Grantaire to choke up slightly, fear overwhelming him.

"_Nic, you ok there? What's wrong? Those meetings not going so well. I saw you in the papers for that barricade of yours. Brilliant idea, horrible execution."_

He smiled, regaining his voice.

"Shouldn't you be reprimanding me for doing something reckless?"

"_Eh, you're your own man now. Any how if it's something you believe in." _

He choked up again, taking in a gasping breath.

"Not really something, more like someone."

The other end was silent for a moment before he nearly dropped the phone due to the canon blast of laugher that erupted in his ear.

"_Nicky! You dating someone? Never thought I'd see the day! My little Nicky, finding happiness. Your mother would be so proud." _

He smiled, feeling the tears welling up at his father's exclamation. What would come next? Would his father still be that excited? Would his mother still be proud?

"_What's her name? Do I know her? Is it that pretty girl you always talk about? Pony?" _

"No Dad, it's not Ép." He'd wondered why his father took sudden interest in the Thénardier clan, but it was a conversation for another time.

"_Well, I'll be damned, you guys made _other _friends?" _

"Not exactly, Dad, I've kind've been in love with someone in our group from the start really, ever since we met." He paused, taking in a deep breath. "Dad, he's the one I believe in."

There was silence on both ends. Grantaire knew he was turning blue with the breath he was holding. Finally he heard breath being sucked in on the otherside and he prepared himself for the onslaught of hate. He wasn't prepared for this.

_"Oh Nicky, how come it took you so long to tell me?" _

"Dad I'm….wait _what?_"

_"Nic, if you weren't falling for that Pony girl, I knew something was up with you." _

He couldn't help but laugh.

"You-you're not mad?"

_"Mad? Why in the hell would I be mad? If this boy's who you love than he's who you love, nothing wrong with that." _

He was speechless.

_"Nicky, what kind of a man do you think I am? Being mad at my son for being in Love? Your mother would've killed me. She just may if I said any different. Just don't leave me without grandchildren alright? There are thousands of orphans who would love two new daddies." _

He couldn't help but laugh.

"Dad slow down, at the moment he strongly dislikes me, on good days."

"_He's that golden boy leader of yours isn't he?" _

He spluttered slightly, causing his Dad to laugh.

"How? What?"

"_This cause, I know it's not something you'd readily jump into. You're like me in that sense, someone had to be your sun and with that boy's hair, he's halfway there." _

"Yeah, he really is."

_"Nicky, never forget, no matter who you are today or tomorrow, I do love you." _

"Thanks Dad, I love you too."

"_Hey, and call more often ok? I want to hear how progress with golden boy goes." _

He laughed. "Alright Dad, I will."

He ended the call shortly after, his father's words ringing loud and proud in his ear. He walked to the _Musain _with a smile and for the first time in forever, he didn't take a single drink that night, engaging in useful counter banter with his Apollo.

The group was pleasantly surprised, Éponine figured he'd come out to his Dad and it went well (alright, so Bahorel had told her when he got there, but she also had a hunch.). Even Enjolras smiled when Grantaire waved him goodnight, the second to last person to leave the café (Enjolras was usually last.).

"Night Enj."

"Night Taire."

Something fluttered deep down in his stomach as the inky haired artist turned to leave the café, something that motivated his next words.

"Hey R?"

"Hm?"

"I liked this side of you. I would love it if he came more often."

That thing fluttered again when he saw Grantaire's eyes light up and the man try desperately to hide the wide smile that attacked his tanned face.

"He might just."

And with that the artist left the revolutionary in the café, both unknowing of the fact that Grantaire would almost be lost forever in a matter of days. And if it weren't for the awakening of this fluttering, this Grantaire might've died with the rest of him.

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Four days later, while Grantaire was still on this wonderful high, he got another call. He quirked an eyebrow at the caller-ID… Aunt Adele? Leaving the counter top he went to his room and shut the door.

"Hello?"

He was met with an onslaught of hysterics.

"Aunt Adele? Hello? Is everything alright? What's wrong?"

"Oh Nicky, no one knows why these things happen." He finally heard and something in those words made his stomach lurch.

"What things? Aunt Adele what's going on?"

"Oh Nicky, they found him at the bar this morning. There was blood everywhere, his hand was around that damn pistol Regis keeps behind the bar."

His knees went weak and he hit his bedroom floor, he could vaguely hear his name being called from his concerned friends.

"Who did they find?" His voice finally croaked out, dreading the answer he already knew.

He barely registered his aunt say it was his father. He barely registered the attempted comfort and condolences and the funeral information. He spluttered a goodbye before throwing his phone at the wall and collapsing.

Suicide. His father killed himself. And deep down, despite whatever his father had told him that night, his father killed himself because of what he said. Grantaire had ruined not only his own life, but now he'd caused his father to end his own.

He ignored the pounding of the door and the cries of worry. He simply sunk into the corner of his room and uncorked the nearest full bottle of whiskey, absinthe, vodka, anything he could find, and drowned himself once more.

* * *

He told his friends his father was dead. Not how he died, just that he was dead. He shrugged off their comfort, he just sunk into his bottle more. Over the next few days he only managed slight sobriety for the funeral. His friends came, they sat right behind him. He felt Ép's hand slide into his, Bahorel squeeze his arm and Musichetta comfortingly play through his curls, but he also felt the distance of his Apollo. Whatever they built that one night of happiness shattered with the first drained bottle that hit the wall.

When it was all over, there was a meeting. They begged Enjolras not to hold it. When that didn't work, they begged Grantaire to take the time off. Combeferre and Courfeyac shared worried looks as they saw Grantaire sink further and further, probably deeper than ever before, and they feared on what would happen at the meeting. The argument that was sure to happen.

And happen it did, probably the worst any of them had ever seen.

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It started how it usually did. Enjolras would be in the middle one of his passionate steroid high speeches about how to better society and near the climax, Grantaire would snicker, loudly.

At first Enjolras tried to ignore him. He understood what Grantaire was going through, having lost his own father two years back, but he was also so disgusted by how much alcohol Grantaire had consumed in the last couple hours alone. But once Grantaire began to rise still putting in his two cense, he _had _to intervene.

"What Grantaire? What is it that I'm saying tonight that so offends you?"

The artist put his hand on his chest dramatically.

"Offend me? Nothing could offend me Apollo."

"Then what could you possibly be arguing against?"

"Only that all this, this attempt to better society, you're speaking to deaf ears."

"The people rose before, they'll rise again."

"They only rose after three days Enjolras, and only because, because of _your_ leadership you jeopardized the life of all of your friends. The people didn't rise because of your fancy worlds Enjolras, they rose to defend their children."

The comment, the fear that Enjolras felt everyday that he'd hurt any of his friends, caused him to snap.

"How _dare_ you! How the hell would you know any thing that happened that night. You were hammered behind the bar, not that tonight's much of a difference."

Grantaire simply laughed, a hollow broken laughed that frankly scared Enjolras, but he pushed that away, fuming at the insult.

"I washappy I was hammered, saved my ass from falling for nothing. Falling for a people that does not and will never care."

Enjolras roared with anger, bringing his fist down on the table, knocking over several glasses, causing the group to freeze, breath baited. Everyone feared the words and venom would drip out of Enjolras's lips next. They feared if the cynic could handle it.

Enjolras, ignoring the pleading looks from everyone in the group, ignoring the little tug in his chest begging him not to continue his path, but he hung that, he hung every warning and moved to stand right in front of Grantaire, his face inches from the beautiful cynic.

"If you believe in nothing, why do you come? The only thing you do is drown yourself in booze and waste your life away, hell you've already wasted it. You believe in nothing, your words mean nothing, you're just a drunk, a broken record and frankly I'm done with the nothing that spills from your lips."

No one spoke, no one breathed, jaws slacked open, even heartbeats froze for a moment. Grantaire stumbled back as if physically wounded. His eyes were wide with hurt. Apollo, his Apollo was disappointed in him, despised him. He crashed so far his Sun had left him, he was alone in darkness.

Putting his hand across his chest and bowing he looked Enjolras directly in the eye, searching for some redemption, but found clear blue icicles.

"I have challenged you oh great Apollo. I am the foolish Marsyas and I have lost. Flay me Apollo, flay me and take my heart." Enjolras stumbled back as well, his eyes melting slightly, but Grantaire had fallen too far to notice. He looked at Enjolras one more time.

"Take my heart Apollo, it was always yours anyway."

And with that he was gone.

If any of them had known that was almost the last time they'd see Grantaire, someone would've gone after him. If Enjolras had known this he would've torn after Grantaire and fell to his knees begging for forgiveness and taking back every word he said, every negative word he'd ever said to the cynic, his cynic, his love. But none of them knew, so they let him walk.

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	2. Darkest Nights

**Lovelies... It means a lot to hear from you guys, so I would LOVE a review or two :) **

**So here we go! Chapter 2**

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**Warning: Language and suicide attempt **

**Disclaimer: No**

_Chapter 2: Darkest Nights _

_If any of them had known that was almost the last time they'd see Grantaire, someone would've gone after him. If Enjolras had known this he would've torn after Grantaire and fell to his knees begging for forgiveness and taking back every word he said, every negative word he'd ever said to the cynic, his cynic, his love. But none of them knew, so they let him walk._

Grantaire's departure brought silence for a few more moments before chaos erupted.

"What the actual F*ck you ass?" Éponine screeched, rising to punch the marble leader. Combeferre caught her around the middle before she got to far, but not without a fight.

"Let me go Henri, let me go so I can claw his sorry face. How dare he?! How _DARE_ he say those things to Grantaire. After he was the most supportive after your father died. After everything _EVERYTHING _he's done for you!"

They watched Éponine thrash against her boyfriend, all the while glaring at the leader.

"Ferre, let her go, I deserve it." He croaked finally, causing more silence.

"F*cking right you deserve it." Heads whipped around to see Jehan fuming at the leader.

"You need to go after him right now, you go after him and apologize or I swear to God I will tear your f*cking balls off and feed them to a rabid dog in front of you." Éponine seethed, causing several hands to fly to their crotches.

"I should, I'll go." He moved towards the door, but he felt Courfeyac's hand on his shoulder (looking back, this is single most event Francois de Courfeyac regrets in his entire life, and he's done some stupid shit.).

"Let him cool off." Enjolras hesitated before nodding slowly.

After the blow up everyone filed out slowly. Enjolras was one of the last to leave, Feuilly leaving right before him.

"I've always had his heart?" Enjolras finally asked to no one in particular.

Feuilly shook his head hopelessly.

"For a supposed genius, you're a dipshit." And wish that Feuilly left, leaving Enjolras to drown in guilt and darkness.

Grantaire had run all the way home, fighting tears. Getting to his flat he found the sharpest thing he could, a lousy letter opened, and dragged it up his wrist. The blood filled the lines and he cried out, too afraid to take his own life, but too ashamed to live anymore, to darken and burden anymore lives. Sinking to the floor of his bedroom sobbing he reached for a half empty bottle, downing it. Finally, once the blood had collected enough, he moved to the bathroom to bandage himself up. Opening the medicine cabinet the pill bottles flashed in front of him, so welcoming, so inviting. Wrapping gauze around his arm he snatched all the bottles from the shelf, not caring anymore what they did. He looked around the flat once more, thankful he was home before his roommate. Then he turned out the door and head to the one place he knew none of them would return to in a long time.

"He wasn't at the flat, but the medicine cabinet's empty." Bahorel's voice came over shaky and worried on speakerphone. Combeferre held the phone out as Courfeyac drove and Enjolras rocked back and forth in Combeferre's car.

"We're checking the local bars, you check the hospital's ok?" Combeferre commanded.

"This is all my fault, I'm such a fool, why am I so blind?" Enjolras sobbed, desperately scanning the bars and alleyways.

"It's not entirely your fault." Combeferre comforted.

"Just set off the time bomb." Courfeyac added, Combeferre glared.

"We'll find him Enj, don't worry."

Hours went by and no sign, they'd all regrouped at the _Musain_.

"None of the hospitals had him."

"No one's been at the flat."

"He's not at the bars."

"He's not in the park."

Finally it came to Enjolras, hit him like a bloody cannon ball.

"I know where he is." He whispered.

"What? How?" Joly asked impatiently.

"I know where he is!" He cried, running towards the door.

"What's he on?" Bousset seethed.

"He went to where it happened!" He cried, watching it dawn on their faces.

"He's at the _Corinth?" _Éponine breathed.

The old bar near the university campus. The one they stationed their head quarters last minute instead of _Musain._ The one that got trashed by police and the one Grantaire passed out in and woke up in silence. He'd stumbled around for hours in a blind panic as to where everyone was, it took him nearly three hours to find the hospital they'd sent everyone. He'd later tell Enjolras waking up in silence was the most frightening experience of his life.

Enjolras tore out of the _Musain _and down the block to the _Corinth_. Slamming open the door the old bar keep looked up in surprise.

"Alexander? What are ye doing 'ere?"

"Mousier Franz, have you seen Grantaire?" Enjolras's voice was weak, pleading with the old man.

"Ay, he came in little over three hours ago, drunk as hell, he went back to the restroom. I went on break right after so he might've left, but I'm not sure."

Enjolras was nearly ready to throttle the old man, but the overwhelming need to make sure that Grantaire was _not_ in that bathroom over came him. Bolting to the bathroom he smashed open the door and let our a horrific heart shattering scream.

Grantaire was sprawled on the ground surrounded by empty pill and glass bottles. Vomit surrounded his body and blood pooled around his wrists.

Not caring for the filth, Enjolras fell to his knees and lugged the man into his lap.

"Wake up Taire, for God's sake, wake up!" He screamed as he shook the lifeless man. With shaky fingers he felt for a pulse. He nearly cried out with joy when he found a beat, extremely weak, but there.

"Oh Taire, I'm a bloody fool. I can't lose you now! Not now when I've realized what I've been running from! All my life I've been running from love and you, you stupid cynical beautiful man, you've had it for me all along. You can't leave! Say something Grantaire, I won't give up on you!" He cried.

By now the rest had entered the bar and found Enjolras and Grantaire. Enjolras hears (faintly) the sound of gasps, someone, probably Combeferre, calling an ambulance, and then tears. But none of those sounds matter, not when there's a weak groan and two blood shot coffee eyes squinting to see him.

"Apollo? I was allowed into heaven?" He croaks, squinting still, eyes falling heavy again.

"No Taire, you can't leave. This isn't heaven, you're still alive, please keep fighting. I can't lose you, not when I realized how much you mean to me." Enjolras cries, the fluttering in his chest escalating to a fierce tattoo against his ribs. Even in his hazy state, Grantaire clearly hears those words and immeditley regrets everything he's done. Weakly he lifts a hand to Enjolras's face.

"You've got to fight Taire, I'm not losing you! Why'd you do this? Don't you know we all love you? I never should've said those words, never should I have even thought of them, oh Taire forgive me." Enjolras sobbed.

Three bottles, all the colored tablets, one after another, they'll go together until Grantaire's head feels like a bowling ball, till the world becomes a scratched DVD and the sounds from a broken record. Bottle four, five, pink, yellow, blue, all the things he could find to keep him from the pain. He thought he was home free, the world was fading, and the pain subsiding but nothing's more painful than the inhumane howl of heartbreak that yanks Grantaire back to the world. A golden haloed god takes him into his arms and weeps. Grantaire fights the strength to keep up with the words, hearing the ones he's longed for tumble out of the god's lips, bringing him back to the fight. But the other side is winning, the halo dims, the marble fades and with fighting breath, before he's drowned in the darkness he craved, he calls out,

"Apollo." And then moves no more.

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**What do you guys think? I would REALLY REALLY LOVE some feedback! I would really like some feedback on this... I've never done a story like this one before... **

**Until next time Lovelies :) follow/fav...comment/review **


	3. The Sun will Rise

**Hello my Lovelies! Sorry it's been so long, my muse is on vacation apparently... ** **But here I am with with part three of what is now to be a four part story! YAY! (part four's really epilougy...) **

**I hope you enjoy! And to those who also read Amber... I PROMISE that next chapter will be up really soon! Hopefully within the week... **

**Also, don't forget to review! :) **

**Warning: Dark, also fluff and possible major OOC for Enj...**

**Disclaimer: Nope ;)**

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_ "Apollo." And then moves no more._

"Yes R, I'm here! I'm right here, no please Grantaire you can't leave, keep fighting! Keep fighting!" Enjolras screams, shaking the lifeless man in his arms. The rest have gathered near the door, but most can't take the sight, the sounds. Éponine is buried in Combeferre's shirt, soaking it through. Jehan mirrors this with Courfeyac. Joly is desperately pleading with the ambulance to hurry, this kind of trauma beyond his training. Bahorel's fighting with the bar keep, yelling at the man's stupidity. It takes all of Feuilly's strength to hold the fighter back and avoid a brawl.

Finally sirens break the night silence and paramedics burst through. Enjolras at first refuses to let go, but the strong arms of Bousset pull him back as he thrashes. It takes paramedics almost five minutes to find signs of life, they nearly give up after three until they notice the artist's finger twitch and lean towards his chest to hear the faint echo of a beating heart.

He's on a stretcher and loaded into an ambulance. Paramedics say he's not only overdosed, but he's got alcohol poisoning as well. His stomach needs to be pumped among other things. The information that scares Enjolras the most is the paramedic announcing,

"You lot were lucky, ten, maybe fifteen minutes later, your friend would've been long gone."

Enjolras looked up, tear stricken.

"So there's hope?" He asked, cursing how weak and pathetic his voice sounded.

The paramedic hesitated, but eventually nodded slowly.

"Well, more than there would've been."

They all argue Enjolras should be allowed to ride in the back. He's surprised they do this because it's _his_ fault Grantaire's even in an ambulance, but he doesn't argue. He spends the ride trying to stay out of the medic's ways while still clutching to Grantaire's hand for dear life, pressing his lips to them everyone once and a while. He cries the three times Grantaire flat lines, he cries again when the paramedics manage to revive him each time.

At the hospital, he's forced away from Grantaire as he's rushed into the ER. He's lucky Combeferre and Courfeyac arrive moments after he did because they both restrain him.

"They know what they're doing." Courfeyac comforts.

"He's gonna be ok Enj, you've got to calm down." Combeferre pleads as they lead the man back to the chairs.

Three hours. Three hours of not knowing and agony is what plague Enjolras and the rest of them. Three hours of pacing, crying, vomiting (Everything hit him again in a more violent manner at hour two), even praying. Hour three is almost up when a white coat comes out to find them.

"Nicholas Grantaire?"

Enjolras is on his feet and in the man's face in moments. Taking the man's shoulders, much to his friends' protests, he asks,

"He's ok right? Please, please tell me he's alright."

The doctor's startled, but regains composure moments later, extracting and placing a hand on the troubled man's shoulder.

"Son, he's gone through hell and back, but something," the doctor paused. "Someone kept him fighting."

Enjolras could feel the tears well around his ice blue orbs, he didn't have it in him anymore the wipe away the tear the escaped it's ocular prison and slip down his cheek.

Joly stepped forward with Combeferre to get into specifics with the doctor, but before the questions could be asked, Enjolras had one of his own.

"Doctor? Can I see him? Is he awake?"

This is when the doctor hesitated.

"Son, you can go see him, but the one part we have no control over is when he's going to wake up. Right now we have him in a medically induced coma to help him heal from everything he put his body through. After that, we're not sure when he'll wake."

Enjolras fought back a cry of anguish, simply nodding.

"They say it helps the process if a loved one talks to them, he's right down the hall, no one's stopping you from visiting Enj."

Combeferre urged, pushing his friend towards the room. Enjolras nodded and took off in the direction given.

The sight in the room brought him to a halt. He grabbed the doorframe for support. Grantaire was on the bed, extremely pale, so pale his arms might've been mistaken for the sheets if they were covered in his course brown hair. He had multiple tubes and wires protruding from his mouth and arms. A heart monitor to the left kept a steady pulse and his chest rose and fell faintly, but his wrists were wrapped in stark white gauze.

"Oh Taire, why? Why am I such a fool." Enjolras breathed, pulling up a chair and taking one of Grantaire's hands in his own. He brought it slowly to his lips and pressed the limp limb hard.

The picture remains as this, Enjolras's hand infused with Grantaire's, the chair groaning under the constant weight of guilt and prayer, Enjolras's lip glued to the cool pale knuckles that have fist bumped, beat the air with joyous celebration, and clutched the very man who now held it in silent comfort. The others filter in and out in often silent observation, both at Grantaire's state and at Enjolras's vigil. Musichetta, who finally came in nearly a fortnight after it all happened (and nearly a fortnight since Grantaire's beautiful coffee orbs took in the world.), little Gavroche, just five (and a half he'd insist.) trained on her hip and snoozing in the crook of her neck, finally talks to the statue.

"Enj, you haven't moved in two weeks, you need to rest."

"I can't." He whispers, his voice is hoarse and when he meets Musichetta's eyes, hers well with tears. He's haggard. His own skin, usually a healthy tan, was now gaunt and pale, the skin around his face sagged and his eyes were black with lack of sleep. His crystal blue eyes where cloudy, watery, and red rimmed and his curls, oh his lushes halo so full of live and passion, was dull and listless, the metaphoric light that Grantaire so adored was nearly out.

"Oh babe," she whispered. "Taire will have a heart attack when he sees what you've done to yourself." She attempts in vain to lighten the mood, smiling slightly when his cracked lips split slightly, but it's gone as soon as it came. His eyes train back to his love.

"What if I leave and he's not here when I come back? I can't lose him Chetta, I can't." A single tear slips down his pale cheeks.

"Oh, Enj, he's stable now, he's going to be alright." Enjolras let out a hollow laugh that soon mixed with a horrific sob.

"Then why hasn't he woken? Why am I still damned to this hell seeing him practically dead in front of me? Taire? Taire, please wake up." He pleaded with the man, Musichetta held back a sob with her hand.

"Is this my punishment?" He shouted, rising from his chair with such speed, he knocked it to the ground.

"Enj." Musichetta tried, but to no avail, Enjolras continued his rant.

"Is this how you punish complete and absolute asses? Men who never know what's important and precious to them until they've fucked it up so much it's gone? Why not just kill me, put me in this bed, take me instead, take me so I don't have to watch my-my." Enjolras stumbled slightly, choking on a horrific sob and nearly collapsing. The others, who were right down the hall during Musichetta's attempt at an intervention, ran to the room. Every member of the group, even Cosette who was wrapped deeply in Marius's embrace, were witness to their leader's breakdown, but he didn't notice a single one.

"My-the man I love die." He finished in a whisper before collapsing on the bed, both arms draped over Grantaire's still form, tears soaking the hospital's starch sheets.

The rest were silent for what felt like an eternity. Cosette had turned to soak Marius's jumper, Éponine was shaking her head in disbelief, her hand reaching for Combeferre's comfort. Jehan and Courfeyac held each other, Bahorel turned to Feuilly for an embrace, Bousset and Joly flanked their love's sides and Gavroche, well he'd just woken up to this sight.

The small child blinked sleep from his eyes and took in the sight, his heroes, his family all broken, he turned to see two of his biggest heroes at the center of the scene; Grantaire sleeping and Enjolras crying over him. Gavroche didn't understand what was happening; he also didn't understand what Enjolras meant when he whispered,

"Please R, come back to me."

But he did notice the slight movement coming from Grantaire's hand, a twitch, barely there, but there nonetheless.

"Ahr." The boy mumbled, his struggle with his 'r's still evident.

The twitch became more pronounced, as did Gavroche's squirming.

"Ahr! Ahr! Ahr!" He cried, bouncing in Musichetta's lap.

The others looked away, Jehan let out an beastly sob at the little boy's cries, but Enjolras looked up… and found two coffee orbs meeting his.

"You only had to ask Apollo." His voice was hoarse and faint, but it was there and it was directed to him.

Enjolras couldn't put words together, he simply launched himself into his love's arms and wept. The other's noticed the sudden cry of joy and unburied themselves from their embraces to see Enjolras practically buried in the crook of Grantaire's neck, shaking both of them with his sobs, but it was Grantaire's very alive and very awake comforting arm rubbing circles onto Enjorlas's back that made cause for celebration. After moments of sharing this moment with his love, without a second thought, amidst the celebration of their friends Enjolras pulled Grantaire into a sitting position and nearly slammed their heads together, capturing the cynic's lips with his own.

The room went silent, Grantaire stiffened, too shocked to know how to react. The group watched with baited breath as Enjolras pulled away, his cheeks stained to match his favorite hoodie. Grantaire was frozen as well, bringing a heavily bandaged hand, one still hooked onto to an IV drip, up to his pink lips. Enjolras was ready to mutter apologies and rush from the room, but Grantaire, with surprising speed and strength, grabbed the back of Enjolras's head, securing his hold with his god's curls and brought their lips centimeters apart once more.

"Took you long enough you bloody dolt." And once again their lips were one.

"You'd think they'd at least remember there's a child in the room." Joly sighed, moving to cover Gavroche's eyes.

Bahorel let out a deep belly laugh. "With the hell they've gone through and back, we'll be lucky if they notice anything or anyone for at least another fortnight."

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**Enjoy? Please leave a comment/review or follow/fav **

**The final bit will be up soon! As will Thénardier's hospital scene in _Amber_ :) **

**Until then Lovelies! :D **


	4. A New Beginning

**Hello Lovelies! i bring to you the conclusion of this little ditty with a promise (in a reasonable time hopefully) for more of these, most probably the infamous barricade I've alluded too... **

**I hope you enjoy! Would love a review :) **

**Warning: fluff...**

**Disclaimer: Nope...**

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And to no one's surprise really… Bahorel's words held truth, well, mostly. Grantaire and Enjolras only had eyes and attention for each other in the hours following Grantaire's awakening. Only doctor and nurses that came to check on Grantaire were able to break the two apart, except for their hands, not even the strongest jack hammer in the world could separate their hold of each other.

Grantaire remained in the hospital for another month, rebuilding his strength both physically and mentally. Enjolras never left his side, he almost failed a class for it, something that would've shocked the group if they'd been told this fact just two months previously, but now, seeing the look of pure and utter love, care, and admiration that swelled in Enjolras's once cool blue eyes every time Grantaire smiled at him or made progress in his recovery, they knew he'd rather fail a hundred classes to see his cynic smile and heal.

Enjolras was by his side when he began to attend AA meetings, and he held his hand as Grantaire emptied his stash (almost, Bahorel and Courfeyac saved the most expensive.) Enjolras even (willingly) sat for several portraits (in little to no clothing for the most part.) for Grantaire's final project.

It was nearly six months after everything happened the six month anniversary of Jaques Grantaire's death to be exact. Enjolras didn't realize this, but he was very concerned (and possibly frantic) when he found his boyfriend of a year sitting quietly in the middle of their living room, no lights on and shaking slightly with sobs.

"Taire?" He asked timidly, kneeling to his love's side.

"I miss him Enj." He whispered, meeting his love's eyes with his bloodshot ones.

Enjolras understood, he remembered the news and the funeral, worse, he remembered how much of an ass he was towards Grantaire. But what burned Enjolras the most was remembered the events after.

Enjolras quickly took his boyfriend into his arms and pulled him tightly against his chest.

"I know Taire, I know, but you know what?"

"What Pollo?" Grantaire whispered, breathing in the relieiving smell of paper, ink, and old books.

"He's up there smiling at you, because he loved you Nic. He loves you still."

Grantaire bit back a sob, staining his love's shirt with his tears.

"Then why's he gone Enj? Why?" He sobbed.

Enjolras held him tighter, pressing his lips to the cynic's inky curls.

"Sometimes it's just our time, but R, no matter what you were told, I know your father would never take his life because he was disappointed in you, R, I know for a fact he loved you more than anything. He was never ashamed of you Taire, he was prouder than any other father out there."

Grantaire continued to soak the blonde's shirt, but his sobs subsided.

"And he and I had something in common." Enjolras started hesitantly. Grantaire unburied himself to look his boyfriend in the eye.

"What?" he asked hesitantly, fearing the answer.

"We both love you with everything in our hearts." Enjolras whispered, leaning to capture Grantaire's lips in his own.

Grantaire's eyes had gone wide; he knew Enjolras loved him, but to hear him say it, that made all the difference.

"I love you too Pollo." Grantaire sighed, moving to rest his head in his love's lap.

Enjolras played with the curls on Grantaire's head soon moving his fingers to trace the outlines and features of his face. Leaning down once more, lips inches from each other, Enjolras whispered,

"I'll never give up on you."

Grantaire's hand snaked up to catch his love's cheek and, both with sighs of content. They had each other and in the end, that's all that would ever matter.

C'est fin

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**Hope you enjoyed! More to come I promise! **

**Also, if you don't or haven't read _Amber,_ i've got a poll/question up... do you want a story/series of one shots focusing on the Amis life with kids? (later on a focus on the kids?)**

**lemme know what you think!**

**leave a comment/review... follow/fav**

**hope you enjoyed lovelies! Until next time :) 3 **


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